


History

by kuiske



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Not Bagginshield, happily mixing book canon movie canon headcanon and in-universe speculative history writing, no warnings save for non graphic mentions of battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuiske/pseuds/kuiske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo stumbles upon elvish recounting of the War of Dwarves and Orcs in Rivendell's library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not making money with this. All rights to their respective owners. Contains direct or paraphrased quotes from the AUJ and Tolkien's books.

Bilbo stifled a yawn and rubbed his tired eyes. By rights he should’ve gone to sleep already - hours ago in fact - but the library in Rivendell was more irresistible than a ten course banquet after a long day spent hunting mushrooms in the Eastfarthing forest. It had been lord Elrond himself who had given him the permission to use the library (as much as he wished, for as long as he wished) and the elves tending the books had been perfectly helpful. The head-librarian had, in fact, expressed some delight over there being a literate individual among their most recent guests. Bilbo had considered pointing out that some of the dwarves could definitely read if his contract was anything to go by, Balin and Thorin at the very least. In the end he had decided against it. Bilbo felt the librarian’s assumption could very well be excused, since he himself would never have guessed that any of the dwarves knew their letters when even knife and fork seemed to be beyond their abilities. In the dinner table at least; he had seen more than he cared to see of their skill with steel when it was fashioned into weapons instead of perfectly respectable eating utensils.

This time Bilbo failed to stifle a yawn that was huge enough to nearly dislocate his jaw. The only fault he could find in the library was its sheer size - he felt like a faunt in a sweet shop trying to decide which books and poems he’d have time to read before the Company’s inevitable departure from Rivendell. The dwarves seemed anxious to be gone. Bilbo couldn’t for the life of him comprehend how they could be untouched by the valley’s ethereal beauty, but untouched they were all the same. Or actually they _were_ moved by it, as Bofur had laughed when he’d gotten around to asking him, meaning that they’d dearly wish to be moved to someplace else as soon as possible. As far as Bilbo was concerned the troll-incident followed by the mad dash fleeing from the orcs and wargs had been quite enough of an adventure already, but it could well be that dwarves were so used to wandering the wilds they were uncomfortable staying put surrounded by walls and furniture and such. It would definitely explain their lack of anything resembling manners or modesty. Bilbo doubted the Company would miss him overmuch even if he did give in to the temptation to stay in this library for the rest of his life, though they might decide to come back for him to bring him before the law for breaching his contract. That is, if they noticed he was missing at all.

The candles were starting to burn dangerously low and he _really_ should leave and find his bed - but for the past hour he had been engrossed in a volume that concerned the recent history of the mortal peoples in this corner of Middle-Earth. He had been over the moon to find that _Hobbits_ were mentioned there, and not only mentioned but there was a long stretch on their customs and history. There had been a strange sort of tickling sensation at the bottom of his stomach when he realised that not only had the elves taken the time to record down Hobbitish history, but that quite a few chapters cited _Belladonna Took_ as the source. Bilbo knew his mother had gone on adventures in her youth, but to hold a tangible proof that she’d come to Rivendell and conversed with the elves... 

Filled with strange sort of fascination (and if he was honest, some self-importance) he had read the pages concerning Hobbits down to the last word. He’d been delighted to find the information mostly correct, if slightly outdated on some parts. The chapter concerning the Fell Winter was something of an exception; it filled him with nothing save for a queer sort of cold crawling down his spine. Bilbo shivered quite involuntarily at the faint memory of freezing winds and snow and hunger and _wolves_. He might have put the book aside for some lighter reading, if he hadn’t noticed the annotation at the bottom of the page scribbled in a tiny neat elvish script he struggled to read for a moment. 

_It is probable that the period known as the Fell Winter was less disastrous than the preceding Long Winter (2758 TA) for two known reasons. Firstly the weather was not quite as harsh as it had been during the Long Winter, and parts of Rhovanion and Eryn Lasgalen were altogether spared from the worst of the winter. Secondly the orcs in the Misty Mountains were not numerous enough to mount a full attack on Eriador and Rhovanion, them having been all but decimated in the war between dwarves and orcs a century earlier._

Curiosity freshly piqued Bilbo flicked to the page given in the annotation. He was perhaps slightly smug to see there was only a few pages in the book on dwarves, _much_ less than there was about Hobbits. Though evidently it might not have been the elves valuing his own race higher. There was a distinctly annoyed note at the beginning of the dwarven section, announcing that the _naugrim_ were, as ever, secretive and most of the information in the book came from a secondary source. (Bilbo was somewhat disappointed to see there was nothing on customs and no tips as to how one would convince dwarves to act like civilized people. Though if lord Elrond were possessed of such knowledge he surely would’ve put it to use by now.) His eyes fell briefly on a paragraph concerning the Fall of Erebor to the fire-drake Smaug, and he hastily skipped that part feeling a lurch of nervousness at the final destination of his adventure.

The paragraph concerning the war of dwarves and orcs was scanty at best. The war had apparently lasted several years and culminated in a large battle fought in Nanduhirion. There was barely any information and nothing particularly interesting. 

_The exact numbers of either armies are unknown. It can, however, be assumed that the dwarvish army was at least 20 thousand strong, for the orcs in the Misty Mountains, numerous before the war, were all but decimated. The dwarvish losses are unknown, but sources in Lothlórien tell that their funeral pyres were large enough for the smoke to hang over the entire forest for weeks and the troops they witnessed departing were much diminished from those they had witnessed arriving. It can safely be assumed that the dwarves took heavy casualties._

Nothing more, save for a short list of the known fallen and a shorter one of the known wounded. Again Bilbo would’ve closed the book, disappointed, if he hadn’t happened to catch a familiar name listed as one of the wounded. 

_Thorin II, son of Thráin II. Obtained epithet Oakenshield in the battle._

With a huge start Bilbo realised that he _did_ know about this battle after all. He had heard Balin recount it in much greater detail than was recorded in this book, though it had never crossed his mind that it all had happened so long since, over a century ago.

From the way Balin had told it he would never have guessed that Thorin had been injured in the fighting, either. Even with all the unpleasantness and death, the battle had sounded rather - well - _clean_ , and a pretty heroic too. Now that Bilbo thought about it, he felt a little ill wondering whether all that business with _rent armour_ was actually even possible without the person wearing the armour getting a little rent too. He tried very hard not to think what Dwalin, or worse, Bifur might have looked like when their very visible wounds had been all fresh and bleeding, or what sort of atrocious scars all the dwarves might be hiding beneath their furs. 

There were no more names known to him on the either list save for the King he had already known for fallen - at least not on the first look. There was something nagging at him about _Lord Captain Fundin, son of Farin_ , but he had no idea what it might be. It wasn’t until Bilbo thought to pull his contract out of his pocket for a closer look that he understood why the name had seemed so familiar. _Balin, son of Fundin_ , had witnessed the document. He tried to tell himself that it could very well be a different person with the same name, but he had a terrible feeling that wasn’t the case. Balin hadn’t mentioned he had lost his father in the fighting. And Dwalin too, Bilbo remembered belatedly, the two were brothers though they neither looked nor acted alike. It came to Bilbo with a horrible sort of certainty that Balin had probably cleaned up his story for the younger dwarves’ sake, and maybe for Bilbo’s sake as well. Or for his own.

 _It can safely be assumed that the dwarves took heavy casualties_ was written in the book, but reading the words again Bilbo couldn’t shake the memory of Balin’s voice catching slightly over _our losses were beyond the count of grief_.

And then he recognised another name. Bilbo stared at the page in utter disbelief, his gaze shifting between _Thorin II, son of Thráin II_ recorded as wounded and _Frerin, son of Thráin II_ listed among the dead. Balin had failed to mention that one as well. Thorin didn’t strike to him as the type to have siblings, but apparently he’d had a brother before the battle. And a grandfather. And a father. Bilbo caught himself feeling a little sorry for Thorin quite against his will. For all that the dwarf was unnecessarily blunt and didn’t bother to hide that he was less than impressed with Bilbo, it seemed terribly unfair for one person to have lost so much in a single day. It was Thorin’s words his memory brought back to him now, snapping voice tight with anger at Fíli and Kíli who were sniggering over Bilbo’s fright over orcs. _You know nothing of the world._

Bilbo jumped as his last candle sputtered and died suddenly, plunging the library in almost total darkness. Only the pale glow of moonlight bleeding through the windows illuminated the room. Bilbo pushed the book away and sat by himself for a while, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. (Much too dark for dark thoughts, and never mind how the dwarves felt about such things.) He dearly wished he’d simply have closed the book instead of choosing to read about the war since he doubted easy sleep would find him now. Dwarvish singing had woken his long-dormant desire to see the world beyond the Shire, but now he felt uneasy thinking about what dwarvish tales might be like. Bilbo considered himself something of an untested expert on the matter, and he was quite certain that families being torn apart was **not** how proper adventures were supposed to go like. Unless it was a darker tale from very long ago, people went on adventures, and then they went back home and lived happily to the end of their days.

_You know **nothing** of the world._

Bilbo felt cold despite the warm summer night and wondered, not for the last time, about what sort of story he had gotten himself involved in.


End file.
